A colourful little monkey landed on the window sill, looking into his office with curious, large eyes. Three other small monkeys, just as colourful, their hides like that of a rainbow, with large, transparent wings folded behind their back, looked on. From the way they hung on the branches, Alabar sensed their agitation. Inching closer to their companion before anything happened to it. But he was content to simply watch, as he and the small monkey locked eyes. It gave a hoot, then jumped from the window to another branch, the others running after it.
He watched until they disappeared into the thicket of trees just beyond his palace, a small smile playing at his lips. How fascinating nature could be, he thought to himself as he walked to his desk and brought out a long piece of plain leather, attached at both ends with silken rope.
Alabar, the war profiteer, the richest man in Nuritopia stood in the office of his palace. A work of art that rivalled the King's own. He wore long flowing silken robes of green, with an opened over-robe that was a mash of colours, that seemed to only indicate his wealth. On his head, he wore a black turban, the end of which, even when looped around his shoulder, trailed far behind him.
With the leather in hand, he walked out of his office, trailed by two guards carrying heavy spears. Slowly, he made his way to the other side of the palace, up several flights of stairs into the guest quarters, a part of the palace large enough to be a small neighbourhood.
Within those quarters, he came upon a set of large wooden doors. He knocked once, turned to his guards who understood to keep watch, then entered. Alabar entered upon a room, dimly lit. In the centre was an enormous canopied bed. And laying upon it was a naked woman. Her hands tied to the bedpost behind her. She looked at Alabar with a raised eyebrow.
"Took you long enough," she said. The woman was none other than Lady Esmerelle, the wife of Lord Dorado, emissary of His Majesty, King Bartholemew of Saphin. And she was gorgeous. Amber skin with curves that rivalled the women of Nuritopia, hazel eyes, with large, luscious lashes, and auburn curls that spread out from where she lay. "My hands were getting numb," she said with an accent that drove a fire into his loins, "and my husband is sure to ask questions of my whereabouts."
"Your husband," Alabar said in perfect Saphinian, "is of no concern to me. And he, frankly, should be the least of your concerns."
"Oh? And what should my concern be, Sir Alabar?"
He let his over-robes fall, and with a pull of a single string, his robes fell to his feet. Revealing a well muscled body covered in scars. He took off the turban, throwing to a nearby chair as he approached the bed. "Your concerns," he said as he straddled her, "should be of what I will do to you."
"Oh, but you made me wait so long. After teasing me for hours, you left me... and I'm afraid all your previous work has come undone. You've left me," she pouted, "and I've been bored."
